From Now On
by gpfs17
Summary: Aurora Kingston and the Weasley twins were extremely close, but that all changed when she was kidnapped at age thirteen. Her memory was modified so that she doesn't remember anything about her past, or the twins. When they find her four years later in a Muggle town, oblivious to everything about her past and who she is, how will they take the news and help her back to her old self?
1. Prologue

It was a cool May evening, much cooler than normally expected at this time of month. Summer was rapidly approaching, and yet the air remained chilled.

A light fog was dusted over the cobblestone street of a small town hours away from even the nearest sign of human interaction. It was nearly dark, the sun just barely over the horizon, and the sky was a rich blueish purple.

The town rarely ever had visitors, no one either came nor left. Not one soul was unrecognizable to the inhabitants. Each morning brought a new visitor to someone's house, as the civilians of the town were known to travel by the houses and stop for a chat.

On the north side of the town lay a street called Sycamore Drive that little to no one explored. It was believed to be haunted, people claiming that spirits journeyed up and down the cobblestones late at night. Halfway down the street was a house, large and seemingly abandoned. Windows were broken, some of the building's bricks were falling out, and thick vines wound up the sides and along the pipelines.

It was perhaps the least known or recognized house in the town, considering the civilians wouldn't dare to come near the street it lay on. The lights were always off; it was suspected that no one even lived there.

As the sun finally completed its path and total darkness came over the town, a car could be seen making its way down the street in the direction of the disabled building. The headlights were blackened, the motor churning silently as it crawled along.

For a moment it seemed as if the car was going to proceed on past the building, but at the last moment, it slammed to a stop. A hooded figure emerged from the driver's side of the car. It looked around as it closed the door, and once the person deemed the street deserted, they raced up the building's stone steps and banged hurriedly upon the wooden door.

"Come on, come on," said a woman's voice from under the covers of a black, oversized sweatshirt. She cast a quick glance back towards the small vehicle, as if checking that it was still were she left it.

Seconds later, the door creaked open to reveal a tall, lanky man, a man with hollowed cheeks and dark eyes that held a sense of loneliness deep within them. "You're late."

The woman pushed back her hood to reveal long ebony hair curtained around an oval shaped face, pale with apprehension. Her left cheek was red with the makings of a forming bruise, as was the underside of her jaw. "I know. I wouldn't be if that girl wasn't such a fighter."

"Not many people like being dragged away from their friends and family, Marina," he chided. "Where is the girl, anyway?"

"The backseat." Marina nodded in the direction of the car, where the outline of a young girl could be spotted just barely through the tinted glass.

The man nodded slowly. He moved his jacket aside and pulled out a wand from the folds. Marina gasped and shoved his hand down. "Are you insane?" she hissed in a low tone. "What if someone sees you?"

He chuckled lowly. "Marina -"

"Don't call me that!"

"No one comes down this street," he continued as if he hadn't heard her outburst. "The poor Muggles believe it to be haunted, and the people who are brave enough to attempt it are automatically shunned."

Marina released her hold reluctantly, allowing him to raise his wand once more. With a single flick, the vehicle's rear door was open and the girl's body was floating towards them. The man disappeared inside the house and, after making sure the young teen's body went before her, Marina followed. A tiny click echoed as the door closed itself behind her.

Thumps and groans reverberated from a room at the end of the hallway, and Marina followed them into a large and spacious room where the man was now clearing a small area on a long, moth-eaten couch where the girl would be laid onto. The paint on the walls were peeling and in dire need of care, but seemed as if they hadn't been touched in years.

The man gestured for Marina to sit on another couch on the opposite side of the room. She traipsed over and sat, feeling his eyes on her as she went. A goblet of wine materialized on the table in front of her, and she took a sip.

"Cadmion," she addressed after the goblet was returned to the table. "I understand you've told me this times on end, but I need you to assure me once more. This won't hurt her in any way, will it?"

The man, Cadmion, sighed deeply. He fixed her with such a glare that she instantly was cowering down lower into the couch's rough cushions. "Since when have you cared about hurting _our_ _kind?_" He spat out the words as if they were verminous.

"I always have!"

"Then why kidnap this girl and force her through this? This will eventually hurt her, and yet you do it?" He raised an eyebrow.

"This... This is different," she responded weakly. There was a new look in her dark gray eyes, as if the conversation had drained her.

Cadmion snorted, but did not speak until the girl was laid down upon the couch. "Marina-"

"_I said don't call me that!_"

"It's your name, is it not?" He tapped his wand to the girl's cheek, where a long scratch ran from the side of her nose to a few inches from the corner of her mouth was bleeding slightly. The blood cleared and the wound healed immediately. "Why do this to the girl? You have nothing against her, so why do this?"

Her eyes darkened. A scowl formed onto her lips, and she snarled at him. "I have my reasons. Now, are you going to do it, or am I going to have to do this myself?"

"You're not even a bloody witch!"

She laughed. It was high-pitched, and sounded like nails on a chalkboard. "So? I'm sure that I could find another... More cooperative wizard that would be glad to assist me. Then, maybe I could have a little chat about how you were oh so unwilling to help me and, I don't know, maybe tell them of your location?" She smirked, somehow knowing that he was with her without a doubt now.

Her smirk only grew at his growl. He turned away from her, now facing the teen, oblivious to how her life was going to spiral out of control from this moment on as she continued to breathe steadily. He ran a thin, bony hand over his narrow features, and with another flick of his wand, the windows were boarded and the process had begun.

**...**

**Okay, so this is my first story on here, and it would be incredibly helpful if you all reviewed for me :)**

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.. The only thing I own is the three OCs in this chapter as of right now**

**Anyways, thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 1

_Five years later_

_April 19th, 1995_

"Aurora, could you come here for a moment, please?"

Aurora glanced up from the book on her lap. She gently creased the corner of the page she was on before standing to find her mother. Her long wavy brown hair, held loosely in a side braid, tapped against her shoulder as she walked, and she swung it behind her absentmindedly.

She glided down the hall, only to be met with the slight of her mother carrying far too many boxes than her small body could handle. The boxes towards the top were teetering slightly, and Aurora giggled at the look on her mother's face. "Need some help, mum?"

Mary, Aurora's mother, turned at the sound of her voice. She fixed a small glare at her, but the grin on her face told Aurora she wasn't mad. "Yes, please."

Aurora took the top four from the stack and balanced them on her hip. "So, where are these going?"

"To the car," her mother responded, sounding relieved that the extra boxes were gone. "I've got something to tell you after we're done."

Her mother walked out the front door, leaving Aurora speechless in her spot. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness at her mother's words, but followed silently a few moments later.

Almost half of the boxes were already packed in the trunk by the time she made it outside. "What's wrong?" Aurora asked. Her mother's eyes kept flitting about- her nervous habit.

"Nothing," she laughed nervously. "What would make you think something's wrong?"

"You won't look at me. You never look at anyone when you're nervous." She handed her mother a box off her stack. "What's wrong." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Nothing," she insisted. The last box was shoved in and her mother closed the trunk. "I just didn't want to break anything inside the boxes."

"You didn't want to break anything inside a box," Aurora scoffed. "Okay, yeah, I'm not buying it."

Her mother sighed. "I have to go away for a few days."

"What? Why?"

Her mother waved for Aurora to follow. "Your aunt is sick, and I'm going up to her home to help."

Aurora's eyebrows furrowed together. "Aunt Thalia over in Stratford? But she's not even an hour away, why would you-"

"It's not aunt Thalia," her mother interrupted gravely. She ran a hand through her ebony locks and met Aurora's questioning glare with a frown. "It's a different aunt- one that lives in Leeds."

Aurora felt herself frown. She didn't know about any aunts in Leeds - in fact, she fully believed that she had only one, Thalia, her mother's sister. Why hadn't she been told of the relative?

"Before you ask," said her mother when Aurora had begun to open her mouth, "you've never met her. She... She's your father's sister."

Aurora finally understood. She never had the chance to know her father; he'd died not too long after her birth. Her mother had been so devastated at his death that she packed up everything, placed little five month-old Aurora in her purple carrier, and never looked back. To this day, Aurora knew next to nothing about her father's side of the family, as her mother never liked talking about it, and Aurora didn't bring it up for that reason.

"Oh." Was all she could think of saying at the moment.

Her mother offered a tiny smile. "Don't think I didn't want you coming along with me, of course I did. Your aunt is just the type of person who doesn't like seeing people weak or sick," she put her coat on, "She barely let me come."

Aurora nodded. As much as she wanted to see this new family member of hers, she understood why her aunt wouldn't want anyone caring for her. She was the exact same way.

Instead, Aurora asked, "When are you leaving?"

"As soon as I find my blasted car keys." (She had a bad habit of losing them then finding them in the most random places - in the butter container inside the refrigerator along with inside an umbrella was included.)

Five minutes later, her mother had left (having found the keys in the dryer) and Aurora found herself alone in their large house. Struck with a sudden sense of boredom, she wandered into the kitchen to make a cup of tea to take back up to her bedroom.

As she waited for the water to boil, she thought about how quick her mother was to leave. Sure, it was a sick aunt, but it was almost as if she were too quick in her actions. And the fact that her mother's eyes hadn't stopped their flitting about, even after she was under the assumption Aurora believed her.

Something just wasn't right. Her mother was far too suspicious for her story to be believable. She was lying about one thing or another.

Perhaps... Perhaps there was no aunt in Leeds after all?

* * *

Far away from Aurora's home, on the outskirts of a small village Ottery St. Catchpole lay a house completely different than hers. Floor upon floor was stacked on top of a rickety bottom layer, and the house as a whole wasn't the fanciest. Yet anyone who leaved nearby couldn't deny that the home itself exerted a sense of welcome, a sense of undeniable love.

Inside this home lived a family of nine. They weren't the wealthiest family in the world, but they seemed to be alright with the fact. One could even argue that their poorness was something that brought the family closer together.

On the second floor was a medium sized room that housed two of the children of this family. Miscellaneous contraptions lay throughout the room including small sweets in colorful wrappers and what looks like an ear attached to a piece of string.

It was clear that the two who lived in this room were inventors, and clearly didn't mind making a mess. Among the scattered pieces of work were articles of clothing, and several crumpled papers (abandoned ideas no doubt.)

The wooden door to the room slammed open and in came a tall redhead with freckles splashed across his cheeks and nose. A second followed soon after the first, who looked exactly like the former. "Fred," said the second. "What was that about?"

"She can't do that!" he yelled before flopping upon the bed farthest from the door. "How can mum expect us to just stop making our products?"

"She didn't say-"

"She might as well had, George!" Fred interrupted, sitting up quickly. "All this work we put into it, everything we did, and what do we get?" He adjusted his voice to make it slightly higher, "Fred, George, when will you two just grow up?"

George, the slightly shorter of the two, sighed. "Fred, you and I both know she didn't mean that. She'll never admit it, but I can solemnly swear that when pulled that prank on Ron last week, she gave the smallest of smiles before she yelled at us." Fred shook his head in a frustrated manner at his brother's words. George sighed. "Fred, listen. You and I both know that it's a rough time for mum-"

"It's a rough time for me, too!" screeched Fred. His face had darkened to around the same fiery color as his hair. He groaned and laid back once more, bringing up one of his hands to cover his face. "Five years, George," he muttered. "She's been gone for _five bloody years_!"

"And not a day has gone by where we haven't missed her," George replied calmly.

Fred was silent for a long while. He had nothing to say, I mean what can you say about your best friend that's been missing for five years? He sniffed, then furiously wiped the oncoming tears in his crystal blue eyes. "I miss her so much."

His brother offered him a woeful smile. "Trust me, we all do." George lightly tapped his arm before heading back towards the door. "Look, mum's probably expecting an apology, so I'll handle it." With one more brief smile, he was gone and Fred was alone to his thoughts.

It took no longer than five minutes for him to make his decision. He stood up, and after writing a quick note to George and the rest of the family, withdrew his wand from his back pocket. He disappeared with a small _pop._

He reappeared in a place not too far from his home. It was almost completely abandoned, save a young couple a few feet away from where he now stood.

The sky above him was a gloomy gray, as if it sensed what day it was for him and his family. It looked ready to rain at a moment's notice, and Fred found himself not caring if he got soaked to the bone or not.

Cold, marble stones lay all around him, but he only paid attention to one every time he visited this place. It was then that he noticed his feet had already begun the process towards the familiar headstone. He weaved his way through the others until he was at the one he came for.

_Aurora Genevieve Kingston  
Born: June 5, 1978  
Death unknown  
She will be with us forever - in our hearts, our memories, and our lives._

Fred ran his thumb along the engraving, swallowing a new wave of tears. The headstone was simple, only having a tiny flower beside the words, just as she would've wanted it.

Fred sighed and placed his head in his hands. Five years. Five years ago, on this exact day, his best friend was taken from him. And he hadn't done a thing. He'd heard the terrified screams she emitted, he saw the masked person drag her away, and yet he had stood, too shocked to even move.

He'd never forgiven himself since.

His family had tried cheering him up after a few hours that day, but nothing helped. Nothing, not even when George had burst through the door with Ron hot on his heels, their younger sibling's hair a vibrant pink. He locked himself in his room and didn't come out for days.

When he finally did, his mother naturally had gone into a frenzy. She bustled around him, tidying up his disheveled figure as best as she could. Next thing he knew, she was forcing half the kitchen down his throat.

The feeling of numbness never fully went away, even now. After all, his best friend had been taken from _right in front of him._

The worst thing, however, was facing her family. From the instant they had walked through the door, Fred knew they weren't mad, but the looks of utter despair on her parents faces, the silent tears streaming down her brother's face, was enough to kill him. The feeling only intensified as her mother gathered him up into a gentle hug. He finally broke down (for the first time since she went missing) and sobbed uncontrollably for the rest of the night.

Fred was torn from his memories at a single drop of rain landing on the hand that was still tracing the headstone. He knew that it was time to go. He cast one last glance over his shoulder at the stone marking his best friend's death before disappearing with another _pop._


End file.
